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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191600">in sunshine or shade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincereously/pseuds/sincereously'>sincereously</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Dream of Spring Rare Pairs Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Introspection, Weddings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincereously/pseuds/sincereously</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Daenerys' and Maron's wedding, Daeron has a question for his queen, if only she can get him to tell her what it is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Myriah Martell/Daeron II Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Dream of Spring Rare Pairs Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in sunshine or shade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the A Dream of Spring Rare Pairs Week on Tumblr - day 3, sun.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wedding feast carried long into the night, all the Seven Kingdoms (seven now, not six) represented in one hall, with the wine flowing free and the music loud and joyful. Whenever Daeron looked like he was flagging (and Myriah knew her daylark of a husband was having trouble even keeping his eyes open, late as it was), they were tempted into staying with another cheer, another toast, another lord coming forward to wish his best wishes on this happy, happy day. It was not until the hour of the wolf that Myriah and Daeron finally made their way into their own chambers, shutting out revelers and servants alike as they were finally, blessedly alone.</p><p>“Well, my love,” said Myriah, sitting at her dressing table and lifting the crown off her head, “It’s finally happened.”</p><p>“It did,” he agreed, sitting on the bed with a loud <em>thud</em>. “What did you think of it?”</p><p>“It was beautiful,” she said, and it had been. Daenerys had been so lovely, bright and smiling, the red flowers in her hair suiting her bride’s cloak just as well as it had her maiden’s cloak. And Maron – when had he stopped being the gangly boy who had raced horses with her? When he had first arrived at King’s Landing, she almost hadn’t recognized him, and when she did it took all her might not to run to him and hug him tight. With him came more Dornish people than she had seen in years, the ladies and lords who she had once shared oranges and whispered confidences with as a girl in Sunspear. The halls had rang with both the dances of her childhood and the ones she’d learned to love as a queen, and she had danced almost all of them with her brother and her sons. Daeron had tried a small bite of the snake soup at the wedding feast, and she was about to tease him about the way he had nearly choked on the spice when she noticed that his expression in the mirror, softly frowning with a faraway expression in his eyes.</p><p>“Daeron?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“What are you thinking?”</p><p>In the mirror she saw him shrug one shoulder as he looked away from her and began pulling off his boots. “It’s nothing, dear.”</p><p>She snorted. “Daeron, you may not have noticed this, but you only call me dear when you’re trying to hide something from me. What’s troubling you? Is it something about the wedding?” Even as she asked, she thought that didn’t seem right. She had actually thought it went well, all things considered. Her young princes had all told her that they enjoyed the feast and the babes hadn't cried even once at the ceremony, no fights had broken out among the Reachmen and the Dornish (though she still worried about how tempers would run during the tourney scheduled for tomorrow), and everyone was either too happy or too drunk to notice when Ser Gwayne Corbray had escorted Lord Shawney away from the feast after the Riverlander pointedly referred to her brother only as <em>Lord </em>Maron. Even Daemon and Aegor had behaved themselves.</p><p>“Not the way you’re thinking,” he replied.</p><p>“And how do you know what I’m thinking?” she said, turning around in her chair.</p><p>He smiled at her. “I can guess. You’ve been nearly tearing your hair out for months trying to make this celebration perfect.” He ran one hand over the top of his head and chuckled as she rose from her seat. “We both have, really, but you certainly have more hair to lose than I - ”</p><p>In a couple of quick strides, she had crossed to the bed and set her hands firmly on his shoulders. “<em>Daeron.</em>”</p><p>He met her eyes, and she knew she had him.</p><p>Daeron let out a deep breath. “I was watching you most of the feast. And you were so lovely the whole time, really, but especially…right before they brought out the third course, you were talking with Lady Fowler, and your brother came up to ask you to dance, and while you were dancing you just…it looked like the sun was shining through your skin. You <em>glowed.</em>”</p><p>“I was happy,” she said, and thought <em>what’s wrong with that?</em></p><p>“The way you were with the Dornish – I’ve never seen you like that. I was thinking about the ways of your lands - that could have been your life, all your life, if you had taken your birthright. I only…”</p><p>“Are you asking if I regret it?”</p><p>“I just want you to be happy, Myriah.” He hesitated. “Are you happy?”</p><p>She closed her eyes. Her first answer was <em>of course I am, </em>but that wasn’t truly what he was asking. And could she say that she didn’t regret anything about it and be telling the truth? She remembered the bitter tears she had wept when she had been a young bride-to-be watching Sunspear turn to a dot in the distance, the way her hand had trembled as she signed away her right to Dorne and thought <em>I am lost. </em>How wonderful it had been to have the lords and ladies of Dorne here, to hear the <em>respect </em>in their voices instead of listening for a hidden jab at the Dornish queen, at not having to guard her tongue as she once had while the old king had planned an attack on her home…</p><p>Daeron was still looking at her. She ran a hand from his shoulder up the back of his neck, her fingers carding through his short silver hair as she had been doing for so many years. Three of her boys had hair the same color, and all of them had hair the same texture, even little Valarr and Matarys. <em>Her boys. Her husband. </em>Her loves, all of them. Daeron closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, and her heart felt fuller and emptier all at once.</p><p>It was not the sun, but a dragon had heat all the same.</p><p>“Yes,” she whispered, “yes. I’m happy.”  </p>
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